


Voyeurism Solves Everything

by Supercalifragiwhatsit



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Also cursing and drunkenness, Crack, F/F, F/M, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:24:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supercalifragiwhatsit/pseuds/Supercalifragiwhatsit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Isabela runs off, Hawke is not happy. She is, in fact, determined to make everyone else just as miserable as she is by glaring at them.</p><p>This may or may not work as planned, and the misery table may have been infiltrated by decidedly not miserable people; time for a new plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeurism Solves Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kink-meme prompt asking for a specific joke and pairing, the rest of it just tagged along for the fun.

Hawke had every intentions of just drinking until she either dropped or her blood turned into ale. Isabela had run off. Without her. _Without her._ Yes, this had been a week ago, but the lack of a second return had Calette more than a little pissed.

Didn't the heros in the stories usually _get_ the girl after heroically nearly getting their arses kicked by an overgrown Qunari? Why the void did Calette get left behind without so much as a 'thanks for saving me, now tie me up and have your way with me'?

Next time she saw Isabela there was going to be a significant amount of electricity. Whether that electricity was deadly or pleasurable would depend entirely on Isabela's 'hello'.

"Look on the bright side, Hawke. Now that the Qunari are gone you won't have to run errands between them and the Viscount." Varric was across from her, leaning back and looking entirely too well adjusted to be allowed at her table.

This was the misery table. The 'gets no sex' table. Anders and Sebastian were obviously allowed (repressed bastards). Varric's odd relationship with his crossbow didn't count (though it was intriguingly kinky). Fenris was besides Varric, and with his issues she doubted he'd gotten a good fucking anytime recently, if ever. In fact Fenris had seemed distinctly discomfited just by her asking.

Merrill wasn't allowed. Apparently the elf and her brother (Her brother!) had something going on. Calette had found it hard to feel bad for banishing the elf from the table when she reminded herself that Merrill (Merrill!) was getting more sex than she was.

Something was wrong with the world when the only two of their group getting any nice hind were Aveline (who had been chased from the misery table for the crime of being blissfully in love) and the innocent little blood mage. Not that Carver was nice hind-- oh Maker she did not want that picture in her head.

"Suck on it, dwarf." Calette snapped, gulping down more ale and still trying to banish the images her traitorous brain was creating.

"Hawke, don't you think you should..." Sebastian started hesitantly from where he was seated besides Varric.

Hawke slammed her mug down and glared across the table at him. "I'm sorry Sebastian, were you saying something? You know what? You can suck on it too. Mine straps on, I bet it's bigger than yours."

"Now now Hawke, no need to make Choir Boy feel deficient. I mean, you'd outsize him and I'd outperform him. That's just not fair."

Silence seemed to fall over the table, so Calette turned back to her mug. She was in no way sorry for making everyone else miserable along with her. This was the misery table, they could go away if they didn't want to join the misery table.

Anders, however, apparently hadn't gotten the 'shut up or I'll shut you up' hint, and spoke up from besides her, "Well of course Varric would be better, everyone knows that dwarves are the right height for 'sucking it'. It's the Maker's present to the rest of us or something."

Calette sneered, not even deigning to look at Anders. Dumbass.

Half a second later she was rather glad she hadn't looked away from Varric. If she had. She'd have missed it.

Fenris, who was seated on Varric's other side, just barely glanced at the dwarf before turning his head away, a blush spreading all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his pointy pointy ears.

She would have assumed that Fenris just had a very visual imagination tonight... Except that Varric was attempting to hide a shit eating grin, and she was fairly sure that cough of his was actually disguising a laugh.

"Oh you're right Blondie. I am the _perfect_ height for oral. Let me tell you, Bianca gets a bit jealous sometimes." The dwarf glanced discretely at the elf besides him. It was a quick thing. So quick that Calette would have missed it if she hadn't actively been looking.

Suddenly sulking at the misery table didn't seem like as wonderful of an idea. No. There was a mystery to solve. The mystery of 'do those looks mean what I think they mean'.

She leaned forwards, wrapping her fingers around her mug and fixing the smug dwarf with her best 'do not fuck with me' look. "Varric. Is there something you're not telling us? Something which may get you sent from the table?"

"Now now Hawke, you know a gentleman never kisses and tells."

"If you were just kissing you wouldn't be getting banished." She snarled.

"Have you ever known me not to tell a good story?" Varric laid a hand over his heart, and it might have been convincing if he hadn't had Fenris right besides him staring steadfastly at the table and going redder by the second, "Bianca's is the only story I'll never tell, the rest has been lain out before you."

"Oh really?" She shifted her glare to Fenris, "Are you absolutely sure about that? Because I think I made it clear this table is not for the recently fucked."

Fenris gave her a level gaze, one eyebrow quirking up. It was almost convincing. Almost, that was, except for the blush darkening his cheeks.

"That's it. Leave."

Varric tried to say something and she growled, then fixed Fenris with a glare as the elf's mouth opened, then closed.

"Alright, alright. We're leaving."

Calette glared into her mug of cheap ale as she listened to the two removing themselves from the misery table. Her reflection glared back at her, just as pissed. She didn't glance up again until she heard the door to Varric's suite swinging shut.

"Let me guess, you two are sticking it to each other in the Chantry? I bet you're fucking right in front of Andraste. Shame on you, Sebastian, I bet you bend Anders right over the--" She stopped suddenly, ignoring the looks of horror the two remaining men were giving her as she realized something.

Neither Varric or Fenris had gone out the front door. They had gone upstairs. Both of them. Upstairs, right now. Potentially fucking. Why the hell was she sitting here complaining rather than devising a way to either join in or spy?

Oh hell. She had lost her sense of fun. Her sense of fun had packed up and run after Isabela. There was sexy activity potentially going on upstairs and she _wasn't_ watching.

This obviously had to be remedied.

"You two stay here and guard the misery table. I need to... Hm. Can you see Varric's bed from his window? Do they use the bed? I think there are boxes I can move to climb up there. Ugh, moving boxes would be easier if I was a warrior and climbing is a rogue thing. Damnit, mages aren't made for voyeurism. We're better at sexy exhibition..."

Calette kept muttering to herself all the way out the door, determined that if she wasn't getting some she was at least going to get a nice sparkly dwarfy show.


End file.
